


mistletoe & peppermint cocoa

by navylights



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby's First Christmas, Christmas, Christmas Castiel/Dean Winchester, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Lights, Christmas Music, Christmas Tree, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Holidays, Hot Chocolate, Little Tree Topper, M/M, Mary's Back, Mistletoe, THEY'RE V BRIEF THO, everything is nice and nothing hurts, tree decorating, with brief tinges of sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 11:59:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navylights/pseuds/navylights
Summary: Cas and Dean are on a mission: to pick up the perfect Christmas tree for their first Christmas with everyone alive and well.And while Cas and Dean are out shopping, and buying cocoa on a snowy afternoon, a certain meddling younger brother is putting up mistletoe in the bunker.(Or, the absurdly fluffy Christmas carols/cocoa/mistletoe/tree decorating/Christmas lights fic of your dreams)





	mistletoe & peppermint cocoa

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy!!! <3

Sam hesitated at the door, the lights flickering on as he gazed around at the boxes of storage- crumbling ones from the days of their predecessors at the bunker all mixed in with the giant plastic bins from him and Dean’s time there.

Shoving aside a box of priest getups, Sam found what he was looking for: the Christmas decorations. He'd bought them last year, but there wasn't much time to use them. Too much death, too much danger, too much peril. But it was Jack’s first Christmas, and their first Christmas back with Mary. Secretly, Sam didn't want his mother to see how nonchalant they'd become about traditions (if Sam could ever even claim to have had any in the first place) because he thought it'd make her sad. So, Christmas it was. Mary was food shopping with Jack, and Cas and Dean were out on a beer run, so now was the perfect time to decorate if he wanted to surprise all of them. He figured he'd have about an hour before they got back.

The railing from the front entrance got wrapped in a string of fake evergreen, complete with a dusting of sparkly white ‘snow’. He wound Christmas lights around the columns and across the mantels he put more of the evergreen garland, intertwined with some silvery tinsel and festive red and green plaid ribbon. There were silver candlesticks too, and a gaudy reindeer that'd been on sale at a Goodwill he'd stopped by a few weeks ago. He stopped to admire his handiwork, and almost forgot the final touch until he went to put the lid back on the box.

Mistletoe.

Of course, three of the bunker’s current inhabitants were first-degree blood relatives, but he'd love to give Mary a kiss on the cheek for her troubles, and he was certain Dean would too. And then there were Cas and Jack, who were uncle and nephew, technically, even if thinking about angel family dynamics in human terms gave Sam a bit of a headache. But he hadn't bought it for Mary, and he hadn't bought it for himself. He'd bought it to tease Dean. Cas and Jack would probably just express confusion over human traditions, but Dean would know immediately that Sam was fucking with him. Mary would, too. After all, who were the only two here who could possibly be affected in a very un-familial way by a plant that makes you kiss? It'd be great.

But his plans were cut short by the sound of the bunker door opening, and Sam hastily stuck the mistletoe in his back pocket. A minute later, and they'd’ve caught him red handed.

“....so then I asked her if she'd- whoah, holy shit,” Dean was saying as they entered the bunker, both men (beings?) laden with bags from the local beer cave. “Sam?”

“Oh. Hey Dean. Cas,” Sam greeted, trying his best to sound casual.

“You, uh,” Dean said, gazing around. “You decorated.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, and in the spirit of the holiday, decided to omit the _no shit, Sherlock_ , that tempted him greatly. “I just figured, you know, with Mom back, and Jack being new-”

“Baby's first Christmas,” Dean said. He nodded his approval. “I like it.”

“It looks nice,” Castiel said, “even though Christ’s birthday was in the summer.”

“Of course it was,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Bet you were there.”

“I was not present,” Castiel said. “Only a few archangels were granted that privilege.”

“Right,” Dean said, clunking his shopping bags down on the table in the war room. “Hey Sammy, you know what you forgot?”

“What?” Sam asked, very conscious of the fake plant in his pants.

“A tree.”

“Oh,” Sam said, a little surprised. “You want a Christmas tree?”

“Go hard or go home, right?” Dean winked.

“We don't have any ornaments,” Sam said.

“That can be fixed,” Dean pointed out. “Tell you what. No way I'm strapping a tree to my baby, but Cas, you still got that pickup truck?”

“It's in the garage. You saw it an hour ago,” Cas said.

“Let's put this beer away and go get ourselves a goddamn Christmas tree.”

Cas looked helplessly at Sam, who shrugged at him. _You're on your own with this one, buddy_.

Dean hummed a Christmas tune as he gathered up the beers. Cas followed, as per usual, and Sam watched them both with amusement. Once they were out of the bunker again, he could hang the mistletoe.

Everything was coming together perfectly.

  
***

  
“Do you want to drive or should I?” Cas asked as they approached his scratched-up red pickup. “I know you're particular about these things.

“You go for it,” Dean said, climbing up into the passenger seat. They weren't far from the bunker when he realized he'd meant to grab a cassette or two for the trip. Silences with Castiel, while still comfortable, had become……weighted recently, and it made Dean fidget. Ever since they'd gotten Mom back, there hadn't been any Big Bad or Mortal Quest, and it had been weeks and weeks of easy cases and spending time together. He couldn't remember a time when he and Cas had just gotten to be around each other without something pressing, something to work towards, for more than a day or two.

It felt……like something Dean didn't want to parse through, and he decided to take his chances with the radio.

But it was close to Christmas, and the first few stations were all holiday music. He could feel Cas's eyes on him, but the angel said nothing.

“Only Christmas music,” Dean said apologetically. “That cool with you?”

“It makes little difference to me,” Cas said. He kept glancing at Dean, then turning his eyes to the road as soon as Dean looked up. It made him nervous, and not for any fear of the angel’s driving.

 _“Oh, the weather outside is frightful,_  
but the fire is so delightful  
And as long as you love me so,  
Let it snow,  
Let it snow,  
Let it snow!”

“Think we’ll get any snow?” Dean asked. He was suddenly finding it very important to fill the spaces that yawned between them in the dinky old car.

“I'm not sure,” Cas said.

 _Great. Another dead end_. Dean resigned himself to staring out the window as they drove into town. But the angel spoke again.

“Where are we going, exactly?”

“Well, I saw a banner on our way to grab beer that said there's a Christmas market Saturdays and Sundays on the fairgrounds,” Dean said. “I thought we might try there.”

“You think it's open in the evenings?”

“Sure, why not? The better to light up some Christmas lights and sell some hot cocoa,” Dean reasoned. It was only around four, anyways, plenty of time to grab a tree and some ornaments before it got too dark.

It turned out he was right. The sign outside the fairgrounds parking lot read

_CHRISTMAS MARKET_

_CHRISTMAS TREES, GIFTS, LOCAL ARTISTS, FOOD VENDORS_

_FRIDAYS 3 PM-8 PM_  
SATURDAYS 9:30 AM-9 PM  
SUNDAYS 12 PM-6 PM  
EVERY WEEKEND IN DECEMBER

“Perfect. We have til 9,” Dean said as they drove into the lot.

Christmas songs were playing from the speakers attached to wooden poles every thirty yards or so. White tents were spread around the field, and near the parking lot, propped against fences, were row after row of beautiful green Christmas trees. The whole place was bustling.

“Tree first?” Dean asked. Cas nodded. “Let's go.”

They made their way over to the trees, weaving in between families and young couples browsing for the perfect one to take home to decorate. Dean felt a pang of sadness, thinking about how the young families would accumulate dozens of sentimental ornaments over the years and pass them on to their own families one day. He and Sam had never gotten to do that. They didn't have anything from their grandparents, any cheesy souvenir ornaments picked up in an airport gift shop, any little picture-frame ornaments with their names written on them, any rickety popsicle-stick snowflakes painted in kindergarten. Dean smiled at the mother of a little girl who ran into his knee, and silently willed her to cherish the time she got to spend with her family.

“So, how does one pick out a tree?” Cas asked, pulling Dean from his bittersweet thoughts. If the angel had noticed his reserved mood, he didn't say anything. Dean shrugged.

“I'm actually not too sure,” he admitted. “We have a high ceiling, so maybe something tall?”

“Those,” Cas said, pointing. Last the rows of seven- and eight-foot trees for families with more modest ceilings (and more conventional homes), were a half-dozen trees that stretched to twice Dean’s height.

“You think we can strap one of those bad boys to your truck?” Dean asked. They were huge.

“Probably,” Cas said.

“Let's go take a look.” As they approached the larger trees, Dean felt his hand brush Castiel's as the angel leaned to the side to let someone carrying a tree pass through. He stuck his own hand into his pocket, ignoring his sudden increase in heart rate and the overpowering urge to make it happen again.

_What? It's cold out, and I don't have gloves. A man can't stick his hands in his pockets in this free country of ours?_

_Wow, defensive much?_

_I'm not defensive._

_You're being defensive_.

“Dean?” Cas asked, squinting at him. They'd reached the trees.

“Which one do you think looks nice?” Dean asked, smiling at the angel as if he hadn't just been arguing with himself over nothing.

“This one looks……the healthiest,” Cas said, taking a few steps and pointing at an enormous fir tree.

“But which one looks the nicest?” Dean asked. Castiel turned and gazed at him meaningfully, making Dean's heart skip a beat.

“This one,” the angel said.

“Then it's perfect,” Dean replied.

  
***

 

With the help of a couple of the Christmas tree lot guys, they got the fir strapped securely to Cas's pickup. Cas and one of the men were adding a few final touches to the knots while Dean followed the other to the grey cash box to pay.

“Big house?” The guy asked as they walked.

“What? Oh, yeah,” Dean said. “We got tall ceilings.”

The man looked at him carefully, and then back at Cas, as if he was putting two and two together and not liking the number four.

“It's not like that,” Dean said, skin flaming. “He's my- he's my brother. We're surprising Mom.”

The man relaxed. Dean’s stomach felt ill as he forked over the cash for the tree. Kansas was Kansas, this he knew. Folks weren't always open to other types of folks. But it'd never felt so personal, and he'd never felt so angry. Or guilty. But he couldn't bring it up without causing a scene, or worse, doing some overdue introspection, so he let it go.

“Thanks, man,” said the tree guy. “Merry Christmas to you and your family.”

“Yeah. Merry Christmas,” Dean said, smiling falsely as he turned and headed back to Cas. “Hey. You ready?”

“I understand we're buying ornaments now?”

“Yeah. Gotta get a lot now, if we're gonna cover that thing.”

“We should buy that silvery stuff Sam put up. If we put a lot of that in the tree, we won't have to hang as many ornaments.”

“What, tinsel? Good idea.”

They walked into the stalls, browsing different vendors. Castiel rang a set of jingle bell wind chimes with his hand as _Walkin' In A Winter Wonderland_ began to play over the speakers.

Dean found himself suddenly unable to resist purchasing things. In the second booth they visited, he bought a block of smoked cheddar and a bottle of wine, thinking, _Sam will like this_. He bought an ornament or two or three from every tent that was selling them: miniature snowflakes and sleighs and bells and reindeer and gingerbread men.

“Hey, look, Cas,” he said as they came into the stall of an elderly woodworker. “It's you.” Cas followed his nod to see the kitschy wooden angel tree topper Dean was indicating, and narrowed his eyes at him, glare only growing stronger as Dean picked up the carving and brought it to the old man to purchase, enormous grin on his face.

In the next booth, they were selling Christmas sweaters. Dean almost walked straight past, but something made him stop. A blue wool Fair Isle sweater, complete with snowflakes and reindeer. He looked at Cas. The guy couldn't wear a trenchcoat on Christmas, could he?

“I can just wear my trenchcoat,” Cas objected when Dean suggested the sweater. But the hunter shook his head.

“Nah, you gotta be festive. For mom,” he added hastily, “and Jack.”

“Will you be wearing a sweater?” Cas accused.

“Hell no.”

“Then why-”

“Because you've been wearing the same outfit for eight years.” Dean bought the sweater, and a gorgeous red and white one for Mary.

In the next booth, everything was personalized. They had rotating racks of candy cane- shaped ornaments with common names on them, and an embroidery machine that was making custom cross-stitch placards, things like _The McRandall’s First Christmas_ and _Bless This Mess_. Dean spun the racks of ornaments until he found _SAM_ , _MARY_ , and _JACK_.

“Damn,” he muttered. There was nothing in between _DANIELLA_ and _DENNIS_. “Whose freakin’ name is Dennis?” And there was no hope for Castiel, so he snagged _CASSANDRA_. He could scrape off the unnecessary _SANDRA_. For himself, he grabbed _DANIEL_ and hoped he would be able to paint over the rest. Maybe if he switched the N and the E and scratched off the I and the L.

He bought a cross-stitch too: _HOME SWEET BUNKER_ , ignoring the concerned look from the nice old lady running the machine. Finally, by the register, which was more like an iPad with a credit card scanner in the headphone jack, he bought a little ornament that was a wreath with a pair of blue baby shoes. A ribbon read _BABY’S FIRST CHRISTMAS_.

By that point, they'd gone up the first aisle of tents and down the second, and they stopped to drop off their bags in the truck before continuing on. It was further in the evening by then, and Cas blinked up at the Christmas lights as they blinked on in the gathering dark.

As they continued to walk through the market, _Silver Bells_ came over the speaker, the classic version with that crooning singer guy. The one who shared his name. Dean Martin, that was it.

 _City sidewalks, busy sidewalks_  
Dressed in holiday style  
In the air there's a feeling  
Of Christmas

Dean saw the little girl who'd run into him earlier, eating a gingerbread cookie. Her father wiped red and green icing from the side of her mouth, and kissed her gently on the forehead as he stood back up. Dean had to look away, that old worn-in feeling of jealousy. He'd probably be a father by now had the Winchester family been allowed to live a normal life.

 _Children laughing, people passing_  
Meeting smile after smile  
And on every street corner you hear

“Dean? Are you alright?”

Dean didn't tear his gaze away from the family fast enough, and Cas turned to see what he was looking at. When he looked back at Dean, his face was full of……sympathy? Pity?

Understanding?

“Sorry, man,” Dean said. “The holidays. They, uh, get me down sometimes.”

“An emphasis on family time reminds you of what you've sacrificed,” Castiel hypothesized.

Dean swallowed thickly and looked down.

“It's alright,” he said after a moment. “Seriously.” He lifted his head and met Cas's gaze. “This is already the best Christmas I've ever had. Mom’s here, no one’s dead or inhuman- well, me or Sam anyways- and we're not racing against time to stop any apocalypses.”

“Do you want a warm beverage?” Cas asked. They began to walk again, but Dean didn't really feel like browsing the stalls anymore. They'd already found a big bulk bag of red and gold ball ornaments that would fill up the tree nicely along with all the things Dean had picked out. “That used to cheer me up, when I was fallen.”

Dean looked at him. They always avoided mentioning that time, Dean out of guilt for kicking Cas out, and Cas- well, who knew? But Cas's gaze wasn't accusatory or even bitter. They'd been talking more lately, and maybe the angel felt like they'd been close enough for him to bring it up without sounding like he was guilt-tripping. They weren't in conflict, they hadn't been in ages, and it had fostered a new atmosphere that Dean had never felt before.

Oh, who was he kidding. He'd felt it for years. It was only amplified the past few months.

“Sounds perfect,” Dean said. “Probably too late for coffee. Have you ever had cocoa?”

“No.”

“Well, you gotta try it.” Dean led the way, weaving through more throngs of people as Dean Martin did what he did best overhead in the final chorus of the song.

 _Silver bells, silver bells_  
It's Christmastime in the city  
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring,  
Soon…it…will…be……  
Christmas……day.

Once again, while the last of the eponymous silver bells rang out over the market, Cas swerved to avoid bumping into another person, and accidentally bumped into Dean instead. Their hands brushed, and his heart jumped. When Cas moved back to his original distance, Dean let himself walk closer as they headed towards the food vendors. Their hands brushed again. And again. Cas looked carefully at Dean, but the human just pretended to be looking into the stalls, and if he wasn't walking straight, who cared?

“What can I get for you two tonight?” The teenage girl manning the cocoa cart asked when they got there. Cas looked at Dean, trusting him to order for him.

“Two large peppermint hot cocoas, extra whipped cream,” Dean said, smiling at her. _We should send some gifts to Jody and the girls this year_ , he thought. The teenager’s blonde braid reminded him of Claire. As she made their drinks, Dean turned to Cas to suggest this, but found that the words evaporated from his tongue at the look on the angel’s face. There was something there that Dean couldn't put a name to, somewhere in the middle of the triangle between longing and sadness and love. His own smile faded of its own accord, and he gazed back at Cas, for what felt simultaneously like an excruciating infinity and _not fucking long enough_.

“That'll be five ninety eight,” said the cocoa girl, whose eyebrow was raised at them, snapping the pair from their only real hobby.

“Oh. Uh, thanks,” Dean said. Cas took the beverages as Dean handed her a ten. “Keep the change.”

They walked slowly back through the market, no particular direction or destination in mind.

“Cas, look. It's snowing,” Dean said, gazing up at the night sky. Snowflakes were indeed beginning to fall, catching in the magical twinkle of the Christmas lights and the evergreen boughs everywhere.

But Cas wasn't looking at the snow, he was looking at Dean. Dean felt a sudden nervous lightness in his chest, and he took a sip of his cocoa to find something to do with his face.

“Ow. Shit,” he said. “Too hot.”

“Are you alright?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, m’fine,” Dean said. The entire surface of his tongue was completely scalded.

“You're in pain,” Castiel said.

“It's nothing.”

“Here. Let me help,” Cas offered. He shifted his cocoa to his other hand and reached up, his fingers hovering an inch over Dean’s face, hesitating. But instead of tapping his temple with two fingers like he normally did, he brought the back of his hand gently to the side of his face and brushed his skin, a touch so soft it was barely there. “Your heart is racing, Dean,” Cas said.

“Thanks for fixing me, man,” Dean said, smiling briefly at him. He started to walk forward, his insides feeling like Rudolph and his entire neighborhood were taking off from his ribcage.

“Dean, wait,” Cas said, a bit of cocoa sloshing over the side of his paper cup as he darted to catch up with Dean.

“Did you try the cocoa yet? Isn't it good?”

“I….” Cas slowed for a minute and took a sip. Dean watched as his facial expression changed from cautious to approving, and when he lowered the cup again he had a whipped cream mustache on his upper lip.

Transfixed, Dean took a step towards the angel. Above them, snow fell in an ever-increasing flurry, and the Christmas lights blinked and twinkled. Castiel cocked his head to the side at Dean’s gaze. Dean’s heart was racing as he drew closer.

 _What am I doing!? This is crazy_. But he couldn't stop. His face was inches from Castiel’s-

-when the angel finally realized he had peppermint whipped cream on his face, and reached up to brush it away. Dean jerked back as if he'd been shocked.

“C’mon. We should get back before the snow piles up too much. I'll drive,” Dean said.

 

***

 

Back at the bunker, Dean and Cas came into the kitchen to find the others, hoping to get some help carrying the tree all the way in from the garage, only to find Jack looking absurdly guilty, trying to use his powers on a pot of hopelessly burnt marinara sauce.

“Whoah, what happened here?” Dean asked, waving the pungent smoke from his face.

“Mary told me how to make the pasta, but I forgot to ask her about the sauce,” Jack said, looking truly dismayed.

“Well, there's usually one rule,” Dean said.

“What?”

“Don't burn it,” he said. After his tense car trip with Cas, he was feeling a little on edge. Neither of them had said anything or acknowledged whathad almost happened, and the radio had played stupid _Silver Bells_ again. Dean gestured at the nephilim’s charred meal, as if to say to Cas _this one is all yours_ , and retreated to his room.

 

***

 

Somehow, the combined powers of Jack and Cas managed to un-burn the dinner (or start all over again, it was hard to tell), and everyone ate together. Dean took a seat next to Mary with Cas on her other side, Sam and Jack across the table. This way, he wouldn't have to avoid the angel’s questioning looks all night.

“So, are there any more classic Christmas movies that have come out since I've been gone?” Mary was asking.

“Oh, yeah,” Sam said. “There's-”

“ _Die Hard_ ,” Dean interrupted.

“Dean,” Sam admonished. “But seriously, we could watch-”

“ _Die Hard_ ,” Dean said again.

“Dean!” Sam pelted a crumpled up, sauce-stained paper napkin at his head.

“Sorry! Sorry, jeez,” Dean said.

“As I was _saying_ ,” Sam said, a glare on his face that could rival their best dagger, “we should watch-”

“ _Die Hard_.”

“We can talk about this later, Sam,” Mary said, but she shared none of her younger son’s annoyance. In fact, it was clear by her twinkling eyes that she was hiding some amusement, and most of all, that she relished the time spent with her sons.

Sam nodded and dropped the subject, turning to Cas instead. “So, did you guys get a nice tree?”

“Yes, we did,” Cas said. “It's about twelve feet tall.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Huh. That's a big tree.”

“You're a big tree,” Dean muttered.

Sam squinted, shaking his head at Dean. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” Dean muttered.

“So, are we all going to decorate together?” Mary asked.

“That sounds like fun,” Jack said. He was still so childlike in so many ways, and his excitement for the holidays was just another one.

“We bought dozens of ornaments,” Castiel reported.

“Wait til you see the tree-topper,” Dean said, smirking.

“What did you do?” Sam asked, the smile on his face indicating that he knew exactly what Dean had done.

“Well, should we go bring in the tree?” Mary asked.

It took all five of them (with Cas and Jack doing most of the heavy lifting, to be honest) forty minutes to get the tree all the way from the garage to the front room. As Sam dug out some extension cords for the strings of lights, and Jack and Mary began to tackle the tinsel, Dean went his room to get the ornaments, where he'd been doctoring the _DANIEL_ and _CASSANDRA_ ones before dinner. They now read (imperfectly, but it was the thought that counted) _DeAN_ and _CAS_           . He rejoined everyone by the tree, arms laden with goods. Mary had set up an old record player to play some classic Christmas music.

“Where'd Cas go?” Dean asked, as casually as he could muster. “I, uh, want him to put up the tree topper.”

“Dunno,” Sam said, from atop a stepladder where he was winding the last few feet of lights and tinsel around the top of the tree.

“Here, while you're up there, put some of these on,” Dean said, handing his brother one of the boxes of red and gold ball ornaments. “Jack, here. Do you want to put some of these up?”

“Sure.” Jack took another of the boxes. Dean wanted to do all the unique ornaments after they'd spread out the ball ones, and the name ornaments last of all.

“You did a good job,” Mary said, coming up to her eldest son and pulling him into a side-hug as they watched the youngest two go to town.

“Thanks,” Dean said, returning her hug. He felt warm all over as the sounds of _White Christmas_ began to crackle through the record player’s speakers.

“Cas!” Jack announced as the angel came into the room. Dean turned around. The angel had changed out of his trenchcoat for the first time in years, and was wearing his new blue Christmas sweater along with his normal pants.

“Wow, I like your sweater,” Mary said.

“Dean insisted,” Castiel said, looking down at his torso and spreading his arms slightly.

“I- well,” Dean said, suddenly embarrassed as Mary gave him a knowing look.

“Matches your eyes perfectly,” she said, gaze still on Dean. Dean felt his cheeks burning. That seemed to have been a theme of the day. He went to work, hanging the last of the red ball ornaments.

Sam descended from the ladder, his work finished. “Hey Dean, what were you saying about a topper?”

“Oh, that's for Cas to put up. It's in the white bag,” he directed the angel. Cas glowered but went over to it anyway. He'd already seen the carving, but looked annoyed at having to put up with the others’ mirth. He unwrapped the brown paper it'd been taped into for care, and revealed the angel figure. It was an overly pure female figure in a flowing robe, book of sheet music open, mouth wide in song, halo huge and wings fluffy.

“That's what his true form looks like,” Dean said, laughing.

“Think more along the lines of fearsome, many-armed swordsman,” Castiel said.

“Ladder’s all yours,” Sam said.

Dean watched as Cas climbed up to place the angel at the top of the tree. The angel turned around at the end to glare at him, a _there. Are you happy_? look. Dean gave him two big thumbs up.

“Okay, now the special ornaments,” Dean said, grabbing the blue bag full of miscellaneous pretty things he'd bought. And manly things. Pretty and manly. He handed Sam a moose with its antlers tangled up in multicolored Christmas lights. For Cas and Jack, a couple of incredibly tacky angels.

“Mom, you get to put up the pretty stuff,” he said, handing her a bag full of lovely snowflakes, bells, and reindeer. “Oh, and when you guys are done with those-” he pulled out the final bag, with all of the name ornaments- “I got these.”

“These are so nice, Dean,” Mary said, turning her name ornament over in her hand. Her eyes were warm and full of light. She kissed him on the cheek.

Dean handed Sam and Jack their ornaments, including the _Baby’s First Christmas_ baby shoes ornament for Jack, despite Sam’s eyeroll. Finally, he walked over to Castiel.

“Here,” he said, handing him the _CAS_              ornament. “They didn't have Castiel.”

“Dean, thank you,” Cas said seriously, all earlier annoyance forgotten.

“You're family,” he replied simply. Cas gazed at him. Mary was right; the sweater really did match his eyes. They stood there for what felt like eons, staring at each other, until the spell was broken by a crash.

“Oops,” Jack said guiltily. Dean looked down to see one of the gold balls broken on the floor.

“It's okay,” Sam was saying.

“I can sweep it up,” Mary said.

“I'll show you where the brooms are,” Sam said, and led her up the stairs to the war room, where he stopped, pointing at the ceiling. “Oops. Mistletoe,” he said apologetically with a shrug, and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. She laughed and gave him a knowing look, and glanced back to where Dean was studiously avoiding catching Cas's eye.

“Now who put that there?” She asked Sam.

“No clue,” he said.

“What is that?” Jack asked.

“It's mistletoe,” Mary explained. “If you pass under it at the same time as someone else, you have to give them a kiss.”

“Oh,” Jack said.

Dean and Cas broke apart, uncomfortable with the weight of this knowledge.

Once Dean and Cas's ornaments had been hung and the broken bauble had been swept up, they all gathered in the kitchen for cocoa, despite the fact that Dean and Cas were both being awkward about the hot beverage.

“Should we try and find some whipped cream?” Mary asked.

“No!” Dean blurted. “I mean, uh, how about marshmallows? And maybe bourbon?”

“Okaaay,” she said slowly.

Dean drank his cocoa, the bourbon completing the warmth that had been flowing through him all evening, and gazed around at the people in his kitchen.

He'd been wrong earlier, about not having a family. This was his family. It was complete, despite the fact that the youngest child appeared to be in his early 20s. And there was time to share with all of them, hopefully for years to come. It was perfect.

 

  
***

 

Dean rolled over in bed. He couldn’t sleep. After an hour or so of trying, he gave up, and went to retrieve the book he'd been reading, which he'd left in the war room.

The Christmas tree looked beautiful in the dark, the soft light of the string lights cast in a warm glow over the room, over Castiel.

“Cas?” Dean asked, stepping closer.

“Oh. Hi, Dean.”

“Whatcha doing?”

“Just admiring our handiwork,” Cas said.

“You must get bored when we all go to sleep,” Dean said.

“No. It is calm,” Castiel said. “Though I do miss you.”

“You miss us when we're asleep?”

“I miss _you_ , mostly,” Cas corrected. He turned to look at Dean.

They didn't need to speak. Everything they'd allowed themselves to voice to each other had already been said. Dean stepped closer, placing his arm around Castiel.

“Do you think we'll be okay?” Dean asked finally. “I mean, is this the end? Of all the big ones, the world ending?”

“It's impossible to say,” Cas said. He rested his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Though I certainly hope so.”

Dean sighed contentedly.

“And if it's not over,” Cas added, “we'll face it. Together.”

 _Together_.

Dean squeezed slightly.

As they were walking back, _Silent Night_ playing gently from the gramophone, Dean's heart beat fast.

_This is it._

“Cas, stop,” he said softly. Cas looked quizzically at Dean. He pointed up to where Sam had hung the mistletoe from the archway. “Mistletoe.

Cas's eyes widened. Everything that they had never said, everything they _were_ at the very core of their beings, beings who existed for each other-

Dean smiled nervously. Christmas lights flickered through the air as he leaned in, taking Cas's face tenderly in his hands. The angel seemed to melt.

Dean closed his eyes as their lips met gently. A soft sigh escaped from the angel’s lips as he reached up to cradle the back of Dean's neck. His other hand gripped the human’s plain black t-shirt, as if by grabbing a handful of fabric he could feel the person below.

Cas's lips were warm and chapped, and when Dean came up for air, his pupils were dilated.

“Merry Christmas, Cas,” Dean said quietly, in lieu of the thousands of things he wanted to say.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Cas replied.

Outside, the snow fell silently, where it would continue to fall until Christmas Day.

**Author's Note:**

> im just imagining Sam at the end of all this being like "you actually did it. you absolute madman" bc he just thought he was fucking with Dean but they actually kissed 
> 
>  
> 
> Please let me know what you thought!! Comments and kudos are much appreciated! <3 
> 
> Happy holidays!


End file.
